


Only You Can Take Me

by CalamityCain



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the thunder god shames himself by using his reluctant brother for release. But since when has shame not sharpened the pleasure they share in secret?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only You Can Take Me

**Author's Note:**

> _I'd like to add that this is my first ever somewhat-successful blowjob fic. Enjoy._
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> _(P.S. I am new and beta-less, so anything that makes you cringe is entirely and unfortunately mine.)_

Sleep eludes the crown prince of Asgard tonight. As with the nights before. Beneath the sheets, his hunger turns hard and accusing.

Thor looks down with a sigh at the familiar curved swell. For half a year now it has disrupted his dreams, or sometimes stoked them into red-hot images that left him wanting well into wakefulness. In the past month or so it has gotten worse; to the point that he needs to relieve himself by his own hand, not once a night, but thrice.

The young prince knows he has not the simple luxury of jumping into the bed of the nearest serving girl at whim – not without courting sly whispers of the noble first-born being nothing but a boor in disguise, incapable of restraining himself. Not without earning the fearful wrath of Odin Allfather and the cold shoulder of his loving but proud mother, Frigga. Besides which, he is not that young anymore. In five years’ time he will be deemed fit to ascend the throne. Yet here he is – woken yet again by the lust that preys on his errant manhood.

There seems only one person in whom he can possibly find relief. Only one to whom he can go without the burn of shame searing his every nerve.

What he is about to do is wrong. But he can see no other way. And the ache is blinding.

Heavy with guilt, he slides out of bed and creeps into his brother’s room.

 

* * *

 

Loki wakes up to a rude hardness brushing his cheekbone.

_“…what…”_ Then his eyes fly open. “Thor, what are y – !”

“Shh. Loki, I cannot bear this anymore.” The thunder god’s cock is painfully hard, and startlingly red. “This cursed thing torments me every night, and I know not what to do.”

Loki rubs the sleep from his face. His eyes fall to the rather obvious problem that beleaguers his brother. “For the love of Freyja, Thor, must you wave that about in my face?”

“I know this is most untoward. But I just…I need your help.” He leans forward and pulls his sibling in. “ I’m sorry.”

Before Loki can respond, his mouth is filled with Thor’s throbbing organ. His head and his senses are overwhelmed by the sheer largeness of his sibling: the muscles honed by years of sparring practice, the heavy mane of gold hair; and _power,_ thrumming in every inch of the sun-kissed limbs. He tries to escape. But his arms are pinned on both sides by the powerful thighs. And Thor’s hand is on the back of his neck, willing him to open up and take him all in.

“Don’t fight it. I love you…yes. Yes; that’s it; suck harder, oh gods, yes.” 

The sucking motion is in fact Loki’s attempt to draw in air. His brother is not only large, but thick, filling almost every gap in his mouth. A particularly hard thrust makes him choke.

“Open wider, Loki, that’s it.” The hand on his neck grows rough, suddenly; it grasps a handful of his hair and manipulates his movements, forcing him to work his jaws in rhythm with Thor’s grinding hips. He stretches his mouth to the maximum to accommodate his brother. _You graceless, stupid oaf,_ he thinks, but all that escapes is _“Mmmmhh.”_

“Shhh. Take it all in. I’d do the same for you. I promise.”

_No. No , you wouldn’t. You would make me your vessel and then discard me the next day, the way you discard things when they no longer interest you._ A half-hearted rage creeps through Loki’s gut. His fingers grasp the sheets in discomfort, in humiliation…and in alarm at his own growing arousal. His own cock hardens and rises until it can no longer be ignored.

He flushes right down to his shoulders. Trembles at the wrongness of it all. Wrong, wrong _wrong._ And he fails to protest because Thor is starting to spill in his mouth, choking and gagging him simultaneously.

Straining to breathe, and to please, he sucks ardently on his brother’s cock even as his own starts to harden. He wonders when the hand will release him. When the well-muscled legs will cease to imprison him.

Just then he hears a thumping outside the doorway and stiffens. Thor ceases his thrusting abruptly; he has heard it too. 

They freeze, and wait, as if suspended in time.

It seems an age before the corridor proves itself to be free of intruders. Finally, the shadow of suspicion slinks away, and the brief chill turns to the warmth of Thor’s hips resuming its rhythm.

The interruption should have dampened his lust somewhat. But the tension and the fear of being found out only heightens Thor’s mounting climax. He grips a fistful of Loki’s hair and rocks forward, hard and fast and relentless, until finally he comes in a sweet explosive release. There is a brief struggle and a stifled moan on Loki’s end before he gives in and allows the hot seed to course down his throat.

“Yes. Yes, Loki, swallow me whole…Ah yes…by the Nine, Loki, I love you. Gods, _yes.”_

He has stopped making sense. He can’t bring himself to care. As he finally releases Loki and collapses beside his brother, the haze of lust leaves him and is replaced by a blissful, heavy languor. Nothing else matters.

Everything is perfect.

Except, it is not.

He reaches tentatively for Loki, who has his slender back turned and is cleaning himself – wiping streaks of come off his finely formed lips – in slow careful strokes.

“Are you – did I hurt you?”

Loki brushes him off. His shoulders are hard and cold. “Don’t be stupid. Your cock was in my mouth for a while; that is all. I could have bitten it off, by the way, don’t think I won’t next time.”

The voice is as cold as the flesh. Thor knows he should leave and let both of them keep what dignity they have left. Instead he cradles his brother close – never has restraint been his strongest suit.

“I apologize,” he whispers. “Truly I do. I don’t expect you to forgive me. In time, perhaps…” 

Then he feels the shoulders trembling. He leans in close enough to brush Loki’s face and finds it hot. And wet with tears. His heart pounds.

“I _did_ hurt you,” is all he can say.

“You stupid oaf” comes the soft restrained answer. How like Loki to speak in artfully modulated tones even as his tears flow.

In truth, Loki doesn’t know what he feels. Used, perhaps. Shamed, certainly. But the greatest shame is not at Thor’s violation, but at his own pleasure, secretly derived from the force of his handsome golden brother washing over him like a wave. And more than anything else – love. The same love they had always had, but different. Richer. Fuller. And full of guilt; always guilt.

They are brothers. _Were_ brothers. He supposes they can be such no longer. And this truth both hurts and relieves him.

For someone so good at manipulating the emotions of others, Loki fails to understand his own.

“Leave me, Thor,” he says without meaning it.

He feels the cold hand of misery around his heart. He closes his eyes. There is nothing to say, really. And so he lets Thor hold him until the misery is overcome by the warmth of the steady embrace. Until his confusion is soothed by the other’s tender, unrelenting strength.

And love. Always love.


End file.
